He gritted his teeth. Okay, Emily. You asked for it!

Dismounting, he wrapped both the reins and lead rope around a bush and took off after her on foot. She whirled around to face him. “What—?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. But this is for your own good.” With that, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Fortunately, she was in no condition to fight him. At least no more than usual.

19

That night, Emily stared in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. Though she always took care to wear Cookie’s wide-brimmed hat outside, the strong Texas sun and wind had left its mark.

Her complexion was no longer the porcelain white prized by Bostonians. Instead, her skin was now a light-golden tan that enhanced the blue of her eyes. The color of her skin also made her hair look a lighter shade of blond.

No one in Boston would recognize her. But it wasn’t just her outer appearance that had changed. Subtle changes had taken place within. Chief among them was the enjoyment and freedom derived from not wearing corsets and bustles.

Oddly enough, she’d even gotten used to the quiet and hardly noticed the cattle smells and dust anymore. Even more surprising was her newfound love of riding horseback. But that wasn’t all; while in town earlier that day, she could hardly wait to get back to the ranch. She still couldn’t believe it!

It wasn’t just the physical and emotional changes on her mind. It was also Chase. Their earlier argument still very much on her mind, she reached for her hairbrush and slowly worked it through her tangled, wet locks.

She wasn’t proud of the way she’d acted. He was only trying to help, and she had made it as difficult as possible.

For some reason, he brought out the worst in her, and she didn’t know why.

She’d fought him good and hard when he hauled her over his shoulder. But the moment he’d set her on his horse and climbed in the saddle behind her, she’d lost the will to fight. Instead, she’d relaxed against his muscular chest and melted into his arms. Fortunately, he’d blamed her sudden surrender on heat sickness, a notion she’d made no effort to correct.

When they had finally reached the ranch house, she even let him help her up the stairs to her room and shamelessly let him fuss over her. He’d lowered her gently to the bed and plied her with cool drinks. He’d then dabbed her heated face with a wet sponge and insisted she rest. It almost seemed…as if he cared for her.

No sooner had the thought occurred to her than she disregarded it with a shake of her head. His interest in her welfare had nothing to do with her personally. His only concern was retaining ownership of the ranch. She was nothing more than someone to be tolerated—just like their marriage.

She dropped the hairbrush on the dresser. He didn’t care one whit about her personally, and that stung. She didn’t want it to, but it did, and that was the biggest change of all.